


happy christmas, daddy

by rory_kent



Series: sherlock and his daddy [6]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Age Difference, Age Play, Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, Anal Sex, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Smut, Cuddles, Daddy Kink, John Has a Beard, Little Sherlock Holmes, M/M, Smut, Sugar Daddy John Watson, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Twink Sherlock, Unilock, inapropriate use of fairy lights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:41:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24620233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rory_kent/pseuds/rory_kent
Summary: things getting fluffy and smutty for daddy and sherlock this christmas
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Series: sherlock and his daddy [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1767892
Comments: 26
Kudos: 115





	1. fairy lights

John sighed, holding the stack of wrapped packages under one arm, pushing the door to the flat open with the other. He tossed his keys into the bowl and dropped the packages on the coffee table. Sherlock lay on his tummy, hair ruffled with a pencil in his ear, books and papers in a pile all around him. He grinned like an idiot and pushed himself up to his knees, pulling the pencil out of his nest of curls.

“Daddy! You’re home!” Sherlock squealed, eyes wide as he glanced at the packages on the table. “Presents?” John laughed and tousled his hair.

“For Christmas, Sherlock,” The younger boy’s mouth quirked and he dramatically sighed. “Pick up your school things, kitten, we’re going to pick out a tree.” Sherlock snapped his book closed.

“They aren’t for school, daddy, there was an anomaly in one of Molly’s speci- wait, you- you mean a christmas tree?” He gasped. His eyes were saucers, brilliant and shimmering green. John chuckled, sitting back against the arm of his chair and Sherlock shuffled his papers about.

“Yes little one, a Christmas tree. And some fairy lights too I reckon.” John’s smile faded when he noticed Sherlock’s eyes going glassy and wet. He knelt down and padded a tear away with his thumb, pressing a kiss on his forehead, “Sherlock, what’s wrong?” Sherlock sniffled and looked down at his fingers, twitching and squirming under daddy’s harsh gaze. 

“N-never, never got to pick a tree before daddy,” He whispered dolefully, his heart achingly heavy in his chest. Christmas meant a stuffy posh outfit and church and mummy and daddy fighting and he always ended up alone in his room, presents opened and tucked into his closet by the maid. He whimpered and John shushed him gently, pulling him into his lap. Sherlock’s curls brushed against his face and his nostrils filled with Sherlock’s sweet minty smell. 

“Shh...that’s alright, sweet boy, daddy’s right here,” Sherlock bit back a teeny sob. _CRY BABY._ he shook his head and curled into daddy, his tears melting away into the warmth and safety of John’s arms. “That’s it, baby, now let’s get your kit” John hoisted Sherlock up and onto his hip, his soaked cheekbones resting on his shoulder. John picked out trousers and a nice button-down and placed Sherlock down to dress him. The pale boy shook his head and whined. He pointed to one of John’s jumpers, doe-eyes wide and pleading. John chuckled and obliged, pulling the cream knit wool over Sherlock’s head, his curls bouncing out the top. John wrapped a coat around his shoulders and guided his fingers into gloves, pulling a knit hat over his curls, adjusting his fringes in the front. It was quite chilly out, and he couldn’t risk his boy catching cold. 

“Come along, buddy, let’s go pick out a tree,” He pulled Sherlock by the hand out of the flat. Sherlock mumbled under his breath, eyes on the floor. “Speak up, love,”

“Can it be a big tree, daddy?”

“Whichever one you’d like, love.” Sherlock grinned excitedly. 

* * *

“Sherlock, darling, that one won’t even fit through the door, much less in the lift” Sherlock pouted as he pointed to the biggest tree they had, it was easily 4.5 metres tall, and John shook his head. “How about that one,” Sherlock looked over. A perfectly boring tree. He sighed, tucking his hands deep into his pockets. So frustrating and exciting and wonderful all at once. It smelled like pine and cinnamon and _jawn._ His eyes scanned over the rows of green before he settled on a twig in the corner, a teeny little tree that barely reached Sherlock's waist. 

“That one, daddy, please?” Sherlock pointed and John raised his eyebrows.

“You sure?” Sherlock’s eyes glowed with seriousness, his whole being itching for this tree. Lone, forgotten, _different._

“It’s special, daddy,” Sherlock whispered, walking quickly to the tree and fluffing the snow off it’s branches, “it needs me!” John smirked and understood. He rolled his eyes and helped Sherlock, who wrapped around him in an instant, pecking a kiss. He picked up the tree by the trunk pulling Sherlock onto his hip. Screw anyone who looked at them funny. 

“Good thing we found him, huh daddy?” Sherlock whispered and John smiled, watching Sherlock look lovingly at their coniferous new friend. Sherlock’s cheeks and nose glowed with a pink flush, snowflakes sticking to his eyelashes. His smile glowed as he leant against daddy’s scarf, he was beginning to like christmas quite a lot. “Hey daddy?” 

“Yes Sherlock?”

“Do you, um,” Sherlock struggled with the words, his heart tugging him into headspace, his mind trying to keep him on the ground. “Do you think- do you think Father Christmas will come to our flat?” He whispered into daddy’s ear. John smiled, cocking his head towards Sherlock, those sweet eyes wide and twinkling. 

“Of course, Sherlock, you’ve been good, haven’t you?” Sherlock nodded vigorously, tucking his nose back into John’s scarf, his ear grazing across his stubbled chin. John hoisted the tree into the back of the Land Rover, rubbing Sherlock’s back gently. 

“Have you written your list?” Sherlock shook his head. John chuckled. “Well, you better hurry so he knows what to bring you!” Sherlock’s eyes grew wide. Mycroft had once found his letter to Santa and burned it in the fireplace, laughing at him as he sat on his chest. The memory made his chest tighten, his breathing starting to go shallow. John sighed and rubbed circles into the back of Sherlock’s coat before opening his door and setting him down in his seat, buckling his seatbelt and pressing a kiss on his forehead, Sherlock’s icy cold nose rubbing on his neck. “Oi! You’re freezing, princess, here I can help,” daddy pressed warm wet kisses all over Sherlock’s face, his boy squirming and squealing beneath him. John grinned and circled to the driver’s side. 

* * *

“Okay, are we ready ‘Lock?” John called from the light switch, hovering, his little boy covering their scrawny tree with ornaments, a few of them homemade from tongue depressors and crayons. Sherlock turned and gave him a thumbs up, nibbling his lip excitedly. He switched his weight from one foot to the other, standing nervously in his pyjamas. “Alright, 3...2...1…” John flicked the switch and their little Christmas shrub lit up, along with the strands of lights across the fireplace and the wall. Sherlock gasped, his brilliant blue eyes glowing in the warm lights. John chuckled and scooped him up, setting him on his hip and kissing his cheek. “What’ya think, kitten?”

“It-It-It’s perfect daddy,” Sherlock whispered in shock, eyes glued to the glowing lights, his heart thumping fast. His eyes welled up with tears, threatening to spill over. John noticed and brushed his cheeks with his thumb, smiling kindly. 

“No need for tears, love,” Sherlock whimpered and pressed into daddy’s neck. “Would my little prince like some hot chocolate?” Sherlock nodded, heart still swelled with love and feelings and _christmas._

“With some peppermint?” He asked shyly, biting his lip some more. John set him gently on the sofa, wrapping a blanket around his shoulders before heading to the kitchen and flicking on the kettle. Sherlock watched his back intently before turning back to Pine Cone (he was adamant that was this tree’s name, even though he was a Fir tree) and watching the fairy lights twinkle off and on, lighting up the whole room. A fire crackled in the fireplace. Sherlock bit his lip and picked up the presents that were in the corner, carrying the stack carefully to rest beneath Pine Cone. They barely all fit, he hoped Father Christmas wouldn’t mind that there wasn’t much space for gifts. John returned with a mug of cocoa for Sherlock and a glass of whiskey for daddy. Sherlock beamed and took his mug in his fingers, his whole body filling with warmth and shivering at the lovely sensation of heat, steam condensing on his forehead and fridge. He wiped his brow with his arm and went to take a gulp before John tutted. 

“Careful, Sherlock, it’s hot!” His eyes grew wide as he looked down fearfully at his cup, blowing harshly at the sweet liquid, a few drops dribbling over the side. Sherlock very cautiously sipped at the cocoa, finding it was indeed quite hot. He set it down despondently, blowing at it impatiently. “Would you like me to get a piece of ice?” daddy said with a laugh, rubbing Sherlock’s back. He nodded and daddy fetched a cube that plopped into his mug, floating like an iceberg in his beverage. He poked it with his finger, watching it dissolve in a puff of steam. He poked his finger into the cocoa and found it alright to drink. 

“Did you finish your letter, baby boy?” Sherlock’s eyes sparkled and he nodded, setting his mug down carefully on the coffee table and fetching the piece of paper from the floor by the tree, scooping up his crayons into his fist and plopping them carefully back into their box. He crawled into daddy’s lap and folded the list up into quarters neatly. “What does it say, Sherlock?”

“Can’t tell you.” Sherlock mumbled, leaning into daddy’s arm, legs dangling over the side of daddy’s lap. John laughed and nodded. 

“Quite right. Do you want me to put it in the post for you?” Sherlock nodded and handed daddy his list. John tucked it into his inside pocket. 

“Will it make it on time daddy?” It was indeed only 3 days until christmas.

“I’ll make sure of it, kitten, don’t you worry about it.” Sherlock nodded and slumped against daddy’s chest. 

“I’m sleepy, daddy,” he yawned and pet his hair.

“You had a big day today, huh?” Sherlock nodded. John reached to the other side of the sofa and plucked up Melly the Bee. He deposited her into Sherlock’s arms, who immediately squeezed her tight and giggled, a sweet little sound in his deep velvety voice. John carried Sherlock to bed, tucking him in tightly under the duvet. 

“You gonna come to sleep, daddy?” Sherlock mumbled, face crumpled into Melly’s soft fur, her wings tickling his ears. John shook his head. 

“I have to post your letter, sweetheart, but I’ll be in soon.” Sherlock nodded and pushed his face into a pillow, dark eyelashes fluttering closed as he yawned. 

“G’night daddy,” John planted a kiss on his forehead and brushed his curls from his eyes.

“Goodnight sweet boy,”

* * *

_ Dear Santa, _

_ My name is Sherlock Holmes. You might not remember me, I sent you a letter once when I was 6, but my brother burned all the others. I live in London with my daddy, his name is John Watson. He’s a doctor. I’m 18 years old, and maybe I’m too old for this, but I was wondering if I could have a microscope for christmas this year? I asked for one in the letter I sent you, and I know it’s a lot to ask, but since I never asked for anything else, I would very much like one. If you don’t know what to get John, he really likes spy novels and jumpers, even though he can’t wear them at his work. _

_ Hope this letter finds you well, _

_ Sherlock Holmes _

_ P.S. I've read that you like milk and biscuits, so I promise to leave you some _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! *muah*


	2. shopping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHH christmas spirit is pumping through my veins

Sherlock bit his lip nervously as his phone rang, holding it close to his face with both hands, sitting cross legged on his bed in his pyjamas. Daddy was at work, and Sherlock was on his Christmas Holiday. He shuffled his feet around, the call continuing to ring. 

“Sherlock?” Molly’s voice crackled through and Sherlock let out his breath. 

“Molly! Molly, I need your help, I need to get the perfect gift for John.” Sherlock jumped off his bed and began to undress, the phone tumbling out of his grip and he barely grabbed it in time to hear,

“-can I help?”

“Yes, Molly, of course you can help, that’s why I’ve phoned you, I thought that was fairly obvious-”

“Sherlock! I said,  _ how  _ can I help you, what do you need?”

“Oh, right, I um, I don’t know where to go to buy presents.” Sherlock bit the inside of his cheek, anxious to see how she’d mock him for being terrible at shopping. 

“Alright, I’m at the mortuary, why don’t you meet me here?” Sherlock nodded then remembered she couldn’t see him. 

“Right. See you in a moment.” The call ended and Sherlock let his mobile tumble to the floor, cringing at the sound of a crack, examining it and finding it was still working. Daddy would be stroppy he’d broken his phone again. “ _ That’s no way to treat nice things, princess.”  _ He threw his head back and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. Present. Need to get John’s present. Right! He quickly fumbled his way into trousers and a button-up shirt, unsure what the proper uniform for shopping was, nervously fastening the watch daddy had given him. It was really lovely, simple black leather and a clean face. Daddy always knew the perfect things for Sherlock. Now it was Sherlock’s turn. He grabbed his wallet, which was empty save for his ID, Oyster card and the shiny black credit card John had given him- he had barely used it, but John had insisted he keep it. “ _ For emergencies, Sherlock.”  _

This was most definitely an emergency.

* * *

“Molly?” Sherlock called out into the cadaver lab, hands in his pockets, nervously looking about. He jumped at the sight of another woman there, sitting on a slab with her legs crossed gracefully, looking down at him strangely- the way daddy did sometimes. “Hi- uh, I’m looking for Molly Hooper.”

“She’s just gone out to fetch something, dear,” Irene smirked, cocking her head, “I assume you’re Sherlock?” Sherlock nodded, swallowing nervously. “Irene Adler.”

“Oh, uh, hi,” Sherlock mumbled, feeling uncomfortable with her eyes on him, eyeing him like he was fresh meat. He rubbed his arm, looking down at his watch guiltily. She may not have fallen into the “don’t talk to other men” category, but as women went she was close and his stomach was churning. 

“Oh, do relax dear, you’re not my type.” Sherlock did actually relax at that, finally looking at her properly. She was a bit older than him, 5’5” with green eyes and red lipstick. She was rather posh and was typing away at a mobile with red polished fingernails that clacked on the screen. “I hear you’re taken as well?”

Sherlock nodded, “Yeah uh- I’m getting him a present today, with Molly” She smiled, looking up at him patronizingly. 

“That’s adorable. Does your daddy have a name?”

“John, John Watson.” Sherlock said automatically, then faltered, “Wait, how did y-” Her eyes flickered something exciting and scary that sent shivers down Sherlock’s spine.

“I always know,” She looked him over once again, and Sherlock smiled involuntarily. He really had met his match.“Molly says you’re a brainy little thing. What’s a smart boy like you doing with a power mad old man?” Sherlock scowled. 

“He’s not  _ old _ , Irene, he’s 47, and he’s not powermad. He’s kind and gentle and wise thank you, and he’s  _ mine _ . That’s all there is to it,” Irene smiled and looked back down at her mobile. Sherlock swallowed, crossing his arms in a huff. She looked up at him again and smirked and he couldn’t help but laugh. A deep velvety laugh that erupted out his nose. 

“I like you, Sherlock, in fact, I’m coming with,” She slipped off the slab and put her shoes back on. Molly swung open the lab door at that exact moment and her face fell. 

“Irene, you didn’t thrash him did you?” 

“He can hold his own, love, no need for concern,” She smiled at Sherlock. “Now where are we going?” 

“I was thinking Harrods, or Selfridges, depending on what we’re shopping for.” Molly eyed Sherlock, who blushed feverishly. Her girlfriend could be wicked sometimes, but they seemed to hit it off.

“Mm...let’s go somewhere else first, I’ve got an idea,” Irene was off, dragging Sherlock by the wrist, who was shocked silent as they exited the morgue into the snow.

* * *

This was not the kind of store Sherlock thought he’d end up in today. There was lace and satin and straps and leather everywhere in this tiny shop. On the outside it had looked completely ordinary, but Sherlocks senses were being assaulted by the sheer amount of  _ sex. _ Irene was smiling furiously watching him. Molly was blushing a bit around the ears, but swished her ponytail and took it in stride. She’d been here before a few times. 

“Irene, I don’t think-” Sherlock swallowed when he noticed they weren’t alone, feeling terribly shy. He fixed his eyes on his shoes. A tan ginger salesman approached him, looking him up and down before seemingly approving. It was a degrading feeling Sherlock was not un-used-to. 

“Can I help you, sir?” Sherlock looked to Irene desperately, who took over quickly. 

“Ah, yes, we’re looking for a christmas present, something fit for a nice wealthy executive with good taste,” She flicked her eyes over to Sherlock, “anything come to mind?” The salesman grinned in understanding, his eyes flickering over Sherlock’s cheekbones and soft cupid's-bow lips, down his skinny frame and lanky tall legs. 

“Yes, I think I know just the thing.” 

* * *

Sherlock looked down at the wrapped box in his hand, dark purple ribbon tied in a flowery bow on the top. His stomach was fluttering uncontrollably. Molly laughed and pat his shoulder gently, pointing with her eyes at Irene, who was hailing the three of them a taxi. 

“She’s a lot to take in, I know,” She bit her lip and looked up at Sherlock. “But I love her. You don’t get to choose who you love.” Sherlock glanced down at his friend, who watched Irene intently, flicking at the buttons of her cardigan. He thought about what she’d said for a moment. He really didn’t choose to love John, he just did, it just sort of happened. Yeah maybe they’d moved pretty fast, but really, he couldn’t imagine anyone else but him. Nobody was as strong, as kind, or as sweet as his daddy. 

“She’s not so bad,” Sherlock observed, raising his eyebrows and looking down at his gift. A can pulled up to the curb and Irene handed the driver cash. 

“Take these two to Harrods,” She said as Molly clambered into the back. “I’ve got to work, I’ll see you later Molly.” She pressed a firm kiss to Molly's lips.Sherlock stood outside the cab and she planted another kiss on his cheek, smearing a bit of red lipstick on his pale skin. He made a _yucky!_ face and wiped it with his sleeve.“It’s been a pleasure, Mr. Holmes.” Molly giggled at the deep crimson flush of Sherlock’s face and ears. He turned and got in the cab gracefully before the cabbie drove away. 

“Can you take us somewhere else?” Sherlock asked the cabbie, who raised his eyebrows in the mirror. 

“Sure, mate, where to?” Sherlock bit his lip. 

“A record store, please, a good one?” 

“You got it, mate.” 

* * *

John came home that evening, smirking to himself. Sherlock had not realised that daddy’s credit card itemized totals and that daddy most definitely had seen his purchases today. John figured this much, knowing Sherlock had been pushing him out the door that morning, anxious to go shopping behind his back. All John could do now was do his best acting and hope he made a good surprise face come Christmas morning. His mouth quirked at the thought of Sherlock in a lingerie store, no doubt embarrassed out of his mind. He snickered and pulled off his coat and scarf. 

“Sherlock?” His boy’s curly head popped out from the couch, turning and looking at him with a blush. “You stayed home all day?!” John raised his eyebrows at Sherlock’s pyjamas, hoping he was doing a convincing job. Sherlock’s ears burned but he nodded. “I missed you,” John leaned across the sofa, pressing a firm and wet kiss to Sherlock’s lips, who sputtered and gasped before pushing back, sucking sweetly at John, reaching out with unsure hands to grip John's face. 

“Missed you too, d-addy” He whispered, closing his eyes gracefully, eyelashes fluttering. John smiled as he ran fingers through his inky curls, gripping and tugging softly, kissing over Sherlock’s little whimpers and moans. John bit hard on Sherlock’s lip before standing back up, enjoying the sharp keen beneath him. John moved towards the kitchen to start fixing dinner. Sherlock rested his head on his knees, pulling them tight against his chest. 

“Daddy?” He called out, voice small and soft. 

“Yes, Princess?” John turned to see Sherlock blushing feverishly and looking up solemnly, lip quivering, eyes glassy. 

“I don’t feel so good, ” He whimpered, closing his eyes tight, gripping his tummy. John immediately came towards the sofa, placing a hand on his forehead, indigo eyes full of concern. 

“What’s wrong, Sherlock?” His little boy looked down guiltily, his heart thudding in his ears. 

“I lied, daddy, I did go out today, with Molly. And Molly’s girlfriend. I’m s-sorry, d-addy, so so s-sorry,” Sherlock cried, eyes flooding with tears as he crumpled in on himself. John couldn’t help but smile, kneeling down to look at Sherlock. 

“Sherlock, look at me. Look at me, that’s it, hi love,” John caressed his hair gently, smiling at his boy, “I’m not angry, love, I have a feeling you were doing something good today, weren’t you love?” John winked and Sherlock sniffled. 

“I, I guess I was,” He mumbled. “But I lied and I didn’t tell you where I was!” John tutted and pressed a kiss to his forehead. 

“Sherlock, we talked about this, daddy always knows where you are,” John tapped the face of Sherlock’s watch and Sherlock looked down dumbly. 

“Oh, right,” He remembered daddy mentioning something about a tracking chip in his watch to know where Sherlock was just in case. The glass face shimmered as the fairy lights twinkled.

“Oh right, indeed, little one,” John grinned, “I knew where you were, I just figured you’d rather keep it a secret,” Sherlock nodded. “Right. That’s that. What would you like for dinner, kitten?”

“Not hungry” Sherlock mumbled and John laughed. 

“Sorry, baby, not negotiable.” 

“Chocolate?” 

“Chocolate is not dinner, Sherlock. I was thinking Indian.” Sherlock nibbled on his bottom lip and furrowed his brow.

“Thai?” 

“Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *kisses*


	3. naughty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello my loves! enjoy some yuletide smuttiness <3 
> 
> so very festive...

John Watson will refuse to any and all accounts of him screaming “like a girl”- he was a well grown man, and a very masculine one at that- He does _not_ squeal. Sherlock knows better. He leaned in and pressed his palms against daddy’s chest, nuzzling their noses together. 

“Sherlock! You’re bloody freezing, get off!” John gasped and shoved the frozen boy off him, Sherlock erupting in giggles. John sat up quickly, eyes hazy with sleep, silvery hair whisked up on his head. He was instantly more concerned than annoyed with his icy morning snuggle, “Why’re y’so cold, love?” He opened his eyes fully to see a blustery-cheeked Sherlock, hair flecked with snowflakes. 

“It snowed again last night, daddy, I made a snowman on the roof!” John pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to cool off, not to overreact. 

“Sherlock,” He groaned, “How did you get on the roof of our building at-” He glanced at the clock, “6:30 in the ruddy morning?” Sherlock smiled shyly.

“The key code wasn’t hard to guess…” John shook his head angrily. 

“Christ, Sherlock, are you insane?!” Sherlock was confused, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes wide. 

“I just wanted to play-”

“No. Sherlock. That was very bad, I don’t want you up there by yourself again, ever. Do you understand?” John was shouting and Sherlock’s lip quivered in shame. Angry daddy was _not_ fun. Not fun at all. “I said, do you understand, Sherlock?” John snarled.

“Yes, daddy. Sorry daddy,” Sherlock whimpered, fumbling with his fingers, vision blurry with tears.

“Did you even wear a coat, Sherlock?” John growled, voice low and dangerous, and Sherlock shook his head. “Right. Take off your clothes and get in the bath.” Sherlock whimpered, “Now, Sherlock.” 

Sherlock sniffled and wiped his nose with his sleeve, tears soaking his crimson cheeks as he scampered to the bathroom, the cold starting to sink in. He hadn’t even noticed how numb his fingers were, how the tips of his curls had become icicles against his forehead. He peeled off his wet clothes and placed them in the basket, shivering violently, lowering himself into the tub. The porcelain was so cold, he was _so_ cold. Time went by slowly, and Sherlock strained to hear daddy’s movements-shivering something horrible. It felt like hours before the door creaked open. 

“Sher- Sherlock, you didn’t fill the water!” John fell to his knees, leaning over and starting the bath, shaking his head, “baby boy, were you just sitting here this whole time? It's been three quarters of an hour!” Sherlock nodded, shivering. John sighed and rubbed his eyes frustratedly. “I’m sorry, baby, I should’ve helped you, I shouldn’t have gotten so cross,” John poured in the bubble bath and sudsed up a mountain of bubbles, Sherlock’s eyes fluttering closed at the sweet warmth and smell. “But you can’t do things like that, kitten, what if you had fallen? Or got hypothermia?” Sherlock sniffled. “I’m not going to punish you, love, I just want you to understand how scary that was for me,” 

“You were...” Sherlock whispered, taken aback, “scared?”

“Of course I was bloody scared, Sherlock,” He laughed and shook his head. Sherlock watched the bath water intently. John rubbed a soapy flannel across his back, “you’re _my_ little boy, Sherlock, I only want you to be safe.” Sherlock nodded in understanding, splashing some bubbles around. 

“Y’gotta go to work daddy?” Sherlock mumbled as John covered his eyes to rinse his hair. 

“No silly, it’s Christmas Eve, we’ve got the whole day to ourselves.” Sherlock smiled happily as John pulled him out and onto the bathmat, running the towel over him and through his hair. John slipped a soft t-shirt over his head, drifting down to the hem and squeezing Sherlock’s arse.

“Daddy!” Sherlock squealed and blushed feverishly, wrapping hands around to cover his backside, “what’re we gonna do today daddy?” He bit his lip and looked up at John innocently. 

“Hmm...mince pies?” 

“Da-addy!” Sherlock rolled his eyes and pressed a tentative kiss on daddy’s scruffy cheek, closing his eyes delicately. A deep grumble vibrated out of John, his pupils flaring as he licked his lips. He grabbed the back of Sherlock’s nape with firm fingers, brushing against his hair before pulling Sherlock in for a passionate kiss- his beloved left flustered and blushing as John breathed heavily, sucking and pulling, nibbling gently. Sherlock giggled and pressed back a bit, exploring John’s teeth with his tongue. John chuckled and tugged on Sherlock’s hair, the smaller boy trembling and whining in that sweet voice that had not entirely adjusted to it’s silky baritone register. 

“Mm, my little kitten,” John murmured gravelly as he led Sherlock into the hall, his fingernails pressed into John’s back, grasping with all his might. “Brilliant, precious little thing, _mine.”_ John growled as he bit down on Sherlock’s lip, a dribble of blood entering his mouth. He smiled and sucked on the bite, lapping at the coppery liquid. 

“ _Daddy,”_ Sherlock keened as John pushed him down against the bed, pulling his arms above his head, pining his wrists in one hand, using the other to explore under his shirt, pinching lightly on his left nipple. Sherlock’s curls toppled back across the duvet, his eyes shut tightly. His heart was beating like jingle bells as daddy straddled him, planting kisses and bites along his neck, nibbling his ear. “Daddy!” Sherlock whispered urgently, eyes still pressed shut. 

“What is it darling?” 

“I have an idea daddy,”

“Yeah?” Sherlock nodded and crawled off the bed, daddy’s eyes watching ravenously as his t-shirt rode up in the back, teasing the view. He pulled a string of multi-color fairy lights out of the closet, placing them on the mattress and pressing his wrists together and presenting them to daddy with a sweet, naive smile. John licked his lips and his eyes darkened, a pleased grumble escaping his chest. Sweet little Sherlock, how did he know?

* * *

Sherlock let out a whispery exhale, the cool plastic bulbs pressing marks into his arms and torso, as daddy circled the strand around him expertly, leaving him trussed and helpless. The glow of the lights shadowed his cheekbones and nose. Daddy tucked his hair behind his ears when he was finished. He wrapped a silky green ribbon around Sherlock’s neck with a flowery bow, just a little bit tighter than necessary, Sherlock's breathing hitched ever so slightly. 

“One last touch, princess.” Daddy smiled and wrapped a big red ribbon around his eyes, tying a big bow in the back. Sherlock gasped as he was plunged into a deep maroon darkness. He took a shaky breath- he couldn’t see, he couldn’t move! He squirmed in his bonds, the lights pressing into his skin harshly. “Shh, that’s alright, little one, you look absolutely perfect,” John’s breath was hot in his ear and Sherlock calmed at his voice. His helplessness became rather pleasant, completely at daddy’s mercy, feeling like a lovely gift under the tree. “Colour, Sherlock?” Sherlock took a deep breath and shuddered.

“Green, daddy,” Daddy smiled and tapped the inside of his thigh. “Good lad, now turn on your tummy, sweetheart” Daddy turned him over gently, his bound arms flat against his back. 

Sherlock’s heart was pounding, his ears flushing red. Daddy popped open the lube and covered his fingers generously. Sherlock sniffed curiously, his brows furrowing. 

“Daddy it smells like candy canes,” He whispered sweetly. John giggled dangerously low. 

“So clever darling,” He pressed his first finger in slow this time, stretching ever-so-gently, slowly letting Sherlock adjust. He squirmed and flexed beneath him, whimpering. “Shh, deep breaths, Sherlock, we’re almost to the good part.” Sherlock gripped at the fairy lights around his wrists, burrowing his head into the bed covers as daddy stretched him further. “That’s it, little one, you’ve got it,” A single tear dampened his blindfold as Sherlock did his best to relax.The smell of peppermint was cooling, mixing with the warm scent of _daddy._ Suddenly daddy’s four fingers curled inside, finding that perfect spot almost instantly. Sherlock’s back curled cat-like in ecstasy.

“d-Addy!” He cried, eyes rolling back beneath the fabric. He pushed his hips back against daddy’s hand, desperately crumbling beneath John’s hands. “Daddy, p-please!”

“What was that, Sherlock?” 

“Please, please daddy, _fuck me_ ,” Sherlock’s voice cracked into a whisper. John grinned and pulled out, tapping his arse firmly. 

“naughty thing, aren't you Sherlock?” He unzipped his trousers and pulled them down, slipping off his pants as well. He slicked all of his thick 20cm with the peppermint lube and positioned himself at Sherlock’s opening, pressing in slowly, gripping tight Sherlock’s bony hips. Sherlock threw his head back, shaking violently, erection pulsing against his tummy throbbing, sobbing before John was even halfway in. 

“D-addy, I’m close daddy, yellow! yellow! it's too much, daddy!” He whispered, wrists squirming in his bonds, hair dripping with sweat, tears soaking through his blindfold. John hushed him gently, pressing a firm hand on his glowing milky back. 

“Shh, that’s it, Sherlock, we’re almost there,” John paused but didn't pull out, calmly rubbing his thumb across Sherlock's trembling shoulder blades. Sherlock took a moment, shaking still, arms aching behind his back. Daddy rubbed him gently, lulling affections and sweet things in his ear. His words escaped him, so he nodded to continue, hair swishing, the edges of the green ribbon cutting mildly into his neck.

John growled his affirmation and pushed to the hilt. Sherlock writhed as he found his prostate once again. John slowly began to buck his hips in and out, growling low and gripping tight bruises onto Sherlock's hips. Sherlock wept, desperately trying to hold onto his orgasm, rutting against the sheets. John grasped a handful of chocolaty locks and tugged sharply, his baser instincts growling and snarling.

“You’re daddy’s little whore, aren’t you princess?”

That did it. Sherlock came instantly, his whole body ripping in half, white flashing in his eyes, muscles seizing, his chest and stomach drenched in sticky cream. John continued to pump, Sherlock mewling, horribly oversensitive. John pulled tight on Sherlock’s hair like the reins of a horse as he came himself, pumping Sherlock full of seed, fingers pressing bruises into his right hip. Sherlock was floating, his mind fuzzy as daddy untied him. He barely was aware of daddy cleaning his tummy with a warm flannel, pressing kisses onto his shoulders. 

“Such a good boy, Sherlock, so good for me, my sweet little kitten,” Sherlock collapsed into daddy’s arms, letting him pull him onto his lap, rocking him back and forth. “That’s it, sweetheart.” Sherlock slowly came down from headspace, breathing deep into daddy’s scent. “Feeling alright, baby?” Sherlock nodded dizzily. 

“Yes, daddy, feels really good,” He mumbled, still high from endorphins, “ _really_ good” John chuckled. 

“That’s good baby,” He carded through his hair as they cuddled. Sherlock popped his eyes over daddy’s shoulder. 

“Da-addy it’s only midday!” He gasped, slumping back thoroughly exhausted. 

“Do you need a nap, little one?” Sherlock nodded vigorously. “Alright, c’mere,” Daddy pulled Sherlock into his arms, Sherlock wrapped around his middle like a baby koala. He changed the soiled sheets off the bed and fetched Melliferia from the side table. He set Sherlock into the sheets and pulled the duvet over him, tucking stuffed bee in as well. Sherlock blushed sleepily and looked up at daddy innocently. 

“Do you think Melly saw all that?” He whispered sheepishly and John smiled and shook his head. 

“Oh no, of course not.” Sherlock sighed in relief before squishing his face into the pillow. “Sleep well, Sherlock,” He kissed his baby’s forehead and brushed away his sweaty curls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! <3
> 
> and yes ik that sherlock has had like 50 baths in this series he likes them okay??


	4. who's mycroft?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this shouldn't even count as a chapter- on second thought writing this in June might not have been a good idea...

Sherlock yawned groggily as he awoke, stre-e-etching out under the covers before poking his head out to the outside world. The bedroom was dimly lit by the strand of fairy lights daddy had strung around the headboard. A sweet blush filled his cheeks at the thought of them...he glanced at his wrists- still indented with glorious little marks. He flopped back on the bed with a sigh, head turning to glance at the door. He fluffed his cloud of midnight locks and threw his legs over the bed. He stumbled his way down the hall and to the sitting room. Daddy had a record on and was in the kitchen, doing something that looked a lot like work. Sherlock grinned and snuck up behind him, wrapping around his muscular chest, poking his nose into his shoulder and inhaling.

“Mm, hi there,” daddy purred and set down his pen, turning around and gripping Sherlock by the waist and hoisting him up onto his lab, causing Sherlock to squeal. “Have a nice kip?” Sherlock nodded and leaned back into daddy, kicking his legs in the air. Daddy continued jotting down notes and typing and things, it was all really a blur. All Sherlock could watch was _daddy_. Strong and smart and sexy and perfect- hands strong and soft like he was halfway between snapping you in half and cuddling a kitten. It was rather distracting, actually.

“Sherlock, did you hear me?”

“Oh- erm, no sorry daddy,” John chuckled and pressed a kiss on his forehead.

“That’s alright, darling, I asked if you could go flip the record for me,” Sherlock beamed and nodded enthusiastically. “Go on, then,” daddy tapped on his hip and Sherlock slithered down to the floor, bare feet cold on the hardwood. He went to the record player and very delicately lifted the needle and flipped the record. Daddy had given him a proper lesson in how to do this- how the needle was very sharp and he needed to be careful and that he shouldn’t bump it or push it while it was turning. 

“I think I got it daddy,” Sherlock called and John smiled.

“Good boy, Sherlock,” Daddy praised and pulled Sherlock back into his lap, pushing his laptop closed as Sherlock straddled him, arms resting on his shoulders. Sherlock blushed feverishly as daddy began to kiss his neck, sucking a dark mark on his clavicle. He bit down hard and Sherlock whined, secretly enjoying that it might bruise- a mark to prove that he was John’s. John tapped his arse and Sherlock scurried off, he had some wrapping to do. 

“Daddy!” Sherlock keened from their room, presents stashed under the bed, lying on his tummy on the mattress. He glared daggers at his mobile. “Da-aaaddy!” Sherlock could her John stomping to his room, each impact of his fine leather shoes clacking on the hardwood, reverberating through the flat. The door swung open. 

“What is it, Sherlock?” Sherlock whimpered and tossed his mobile onto the duvet frustrated, watching it bounce slightly. 

“What the _hell_ does “call upon” mean? He can’t really mean it, daddy! I hate them! They hate me! I won’t do it!” Sherlock shouted, eyes welling with tears and hands balled into fists. 

“Sherlock, slow down, I’ve no idea what you’re saying,” John held up his hands soothingly, “Who are you talking about?” 

“Mummy and Mycroft have decided that I have to _call upon_ them tomorrow. NO. FUCKING. WAY. They have no right to ask!” Sherlock shouted angrily, curling in on himself and heaving the duvet over his head. John sighed and came over to sit by his side as Sherlock grit his teeth. 

“Watch your language, little one,” John tutted, petting the tuft of curls poking out from under the covers. “Who’s Mycroft?”

“My disgusting excuse for a blood relative-my brother,” Sherlock growled like a lion who did not yet know how to roar. “And I hate them and I don’t want to see them and I won’t!” 

“We don’t have to, darling, we don’t have to call on anyone tomorrow if you don’t want to,” John paused and stroked his cheekbone softly. “Just you and me,” He kissed his kitten softly on his forehead before pulling him up onto his lap. “We don’t even have to go to that fundraiser tonight if you don’t want to, darling,” Sherlock’s eyes went wide and he shook his head. 

“N-no, ’sokay daddy,” He mumbled into his shoulder as daddy carried him back to the sitting room. He settled them both on the sofa and clicked on the television. 

“Thought we'd watch a christmas film, love,” daddy whispered and Sherlock beamed. “Any favourites?”

“Never seen one before, daddy!” He squirmed excitedly before sitting to the side of John’s legs, curling into a ball and planting his head in daddy’s lap. John obliged and began to massage his scalp, carding through his locks. 

“You poor little thing, we’ll have to start with the classics, hm?” John clicked through Netflix and settled on The Grinch. Sherlock sighed and rolled over in daddy’s lap, staring up at his bearded chin longingly. 

“I like your beard, daddy,” He mumbled, running fingers through the rough and scratchy ginger hair. John growled dangerously.

“You just like stubble burn on your-”

“DADDY!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise more angst and smuttiness next chapter!!! i'm just in a wretched mood lately, but I promise it'll get better


	5. pepper-minted

“Do you promise to stay with me the whole time, daddy?” Sherlock whispered as daddy carried him to their room. John smiled and rubbed circles on the back of his nape, one hand cupped under his bum. 

“We’ll only be an hour or two princess, you can hold my hand through all of it,” Daddy soothed, kissing Sherlock’s temple. Sherlock’s legs swung behind daddy’s back, wearily sighing and pressing his fingernails into muscular shoulderblades. Daddy dropped him onto the bed and Sherlock groaned, throwing his head back. John tapped his thigh and Sherlock sat up. “Get dressed, love,” Sherlock’s eyes flicked to the shiny black box daddy had set out for him. Tedious functions _.  _ Why did daddy have to be so rich and popular? Sherlock smirked to himself as he stood and pulled off the lid. Under a layer of thick white paper was a lovely suit of black velvet. His heart fluttered as he pulled it out piece by piece and undressed, clad only in his black silk knickers. He admired the bespoke suit. A satin white button-down, fitted trousers that would undoubtedly show off the  _ ass _ ets and a pressed velvet midnight black jacket. Also a tie and pocket square. He took the silky scarf but abandoned the tie in its box. 

He buttoned up the buttons of his shirt in the mirror, his skin flushing. It was so soft and silky, it was probably rather expensive. Daddy had good taste- and he took a moment to look at himself- his chest was thin, the shirt was rather tight, the buttons strained. He lingered on his tummy, it was beginning to fill out more- christ he looked disgusting! He was suddenly quite ill and leaned against the dresser, his fringes covering his eyes as he shuddered. He stopped his gagging, inhaled sharply and stood up, adjusting his jacket and staring down his own dull grey eyes before being aware of those indigo blues standing next to him.

“Daddy!” He gasped, breathless, reaching out to touch John, his palm resting on his beard, head thrown back on his shoulder. A deep vibrating growl filled both of them, erupting from John’s chest and sending shivers through Sherlock’s body.

“I expect you on your best behavior tonight, kitten, and you can be as silly and rambunctious as you like once we get home,” John whispered dangerously in his ear, taking his lobe between his teeth. “But at this party, you’re  _ my  _ little prince, my good boy who uses his manners and is respectful to daddy’s friends, are we clear?” 

“Yes daddy,” Sherlock murmured, eyes closed. John smiled, pressing warm wet lips behind his ear, Sherlock giggling ticklish beneath him. 

“You look smashing, baby, absolutely gorgeous,” daddy took his hand and spun him around, smirking at the tight fit. “Almost dangerous to let you out looking like that,” Daddy rumbled. Sherlock whined as he kissed him firmly, hands squeezing his arse, guiding him to the bed.

“Da-addy we’ll be late!” Sherlock glanced at his watch, looking up at daddy innocently, eyes wide and shimmering like little galaxies. John smirked and tugged a fistfull of hair. 

“Oh, I’m sure they won’t mind,” Sherlock whimpered under him as he pressed a firm hand on his exposed neck, wrapping his fingers around gently, calloused thumb brushing at the baby hairs on his nape. Sherlock closed his eyes, a whole new and wonderful sensation filling him at the idea of daddy’s hands around his neck. “Oh, princess, settle now, we can save that for later.” Daddy smugly grinned, particularly chuffed. So responsive, his boy was. He slapped that plush arse firmly, nudging Sherlock over. John stood over him and smiled, clasping his gold cufflinks closed, adjusting his suspenders and pulling his jacket over his shoulders. He firmly tugged the bottom end and examined himself in the mirror before drawing his bow tie around his collar. God, he hated these ruddy affairs- he fiddled with it- usually there was a man for these things. Sherlock’s eyes brightened and he rushed over, standing oh-so-close to daddy, he could feel the air from his breath on his skin as he began to tie his tie. John quirked an eyebrow. 

“Done it a million times, daddy,” John smiled and let Sherlock straighten the bow, sweeping his shoulders of dust and blushing. “I-uh, I like the way you look dressed up daddy,” 

“Mm, do you now?” Daddy growled, standing tall and at attention in his tux. Sherlock almost swooned, giggling and leaning on to daddy’s strong chest, feeling the solid muscle beneath his cheek. “Go on darling, get your coat.” 

Sherlock’s tummy was tumbling as he sat at their table, fingers twisting and grasping in his lap, looking down at his polished fingernails. Candle light was soft as he admired the table setting- imaging the effort and precision of the napkin folded on his plate. He nervously looked around, people were milling about,  _ chatting _ . Too bad Sherlock knew everything important about people before they opened their mouths. Well, almost everybody. Sherlock sat up on the back of his chair and scanned the ballroom. As if on command, his army captain was approaching their table with drinks, silver hair shining and skin glowing tan. He was so hot in black-tie, Sherlock could burst from excitement. He squirmed in his seat as daddy handed him a glass of club soda.

“Hi daddy,” Sherlock murmured, and John raised his eyebrows, “I mean, Dr. Watson, sir,” John nodded and put on hands behind his back, standing at attention and scanning his peripherals and smiling at a tall man with blunt-cut ginger hair and a plethora of freckles- the kind from harsh sun exposure. He was clearly former military-perhaps a bit younger than John. He had a German Shepherd going by the hairs on his leg, and had been married for 15 or so years going by the indentations around his silver wedding band. John gave Sherlock a tap and he jumped up, standing and turning to see this stranger.

“Ian,” John stated, shaking his hand firmly.

“John Watson, never thought I’d see the day,” The man grinned, eyeing Sherlock quickly and giving John a knowing look. 

“What’s that?” John quirked an eyebrow.

“Captain John Watson at a bloody christmas party,” Ian looked around, sighing, “Nicola’s the one dragging me to these things- prove to these minted pricks that I’m not uncivilized.” John laughed, Sherlock only blushed at his language, looking down at his lap. 

“It’s for a good cause,” John shrugged, sipping his whiskey. “Children get sick.”

“Speaking of children, who’s this?” Sherlock’s eyes popped up innocently, looking to daddy for assistance. John smiled and put a hand on the small of Sherlock’s back. 

“This is Sherlock,” John smirked proudly, “Say hello, Sherlock.”

“Hi,” Sherlock mumbled, shaking Ian’s hand gently, terribly unsure what to do. This was clearly with daddy’s permission, but even his presence was unsettling- strong and grinning and eyeing him dangerously. He really should be used to this attention by now. Ian only laughed and winked at John. 

“Nice tie,” He cheeked, it was black-tie dress code, but Sherlock couldn’t stand them, and daddy hadn’t mentioned it. Sherlock flushed red and looked down, his shoes were shiny. He could almost see his own head of curls in their reflection. Daddy’s face scowled but he let the comment slide- discussing stocks or inheritances or football or politics or whatever it was that grown-ups talked about. Sherlock suddenly wanted to burst into tears. 

“So how old are you, Sherlock?” Ian asked, taking a gulp of Sherry. 

“24, sir,” Sherlock said softly, John hadn’t mentioned it, but he was already feeling so patronized, he couldn’t bear to say 18. Ian looked John in the eyes and licked his lips. 

“Right. Well, the wife’s probably looking for me, hope to see you soon, John,” Ian smiled wide and gross and clasped daddy’s hand. Daddy quirked a half-hearted smile. Sherlock’s eyes welled with tears.

“Same to you, Ian,” John shook his hand and once he was gone turned to Sherlock and made a comforting sympathetic look. 

“So sorry, princess, Ian’s a right tosser but his wife’s company is important for my work, I’m so sorry,” Sherlock only nodded dumbly. “We only have to stay for another hour, alright, then we can go home and have biscuits and open an early gift, if you’re good.” Sherlock swallowed his tears and looked up at daddy, who was smiling kindly. “Why don’t you freshen up a bit, darling while I make the rounds,” Daddy pat his back encouragingly and Sherlock stumbled away from the table towards the loo on the other side of the large room. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and admired the high ceilings and gorgeous windows. He wasn’t looking where he was going and ran right into a woman in a tight red dress with far too much lipstick. 

“Excuse me!” She shouted at him, and he raised his hands apologetically. 

“I’m so terribly sorry, madam, I’m so sorry,” She smirked and put hands on her hips. 

“Oh, sorry, I mistook you for a waiter,” She sneered, looking him up and down, eyeing her circle of wine-sipping society wives. They all looked at Sherlock like he was last season shoes. He was suddenly ashen pale and his mouth was dry. “But it’s just a whore,” Sherlock silently gasped and stood absolutely still as they laughed at him. 

“Does he pay you in advance or shove it down your arse?” Another woman snickered. 

Sherlock bit back a sob that had risen up from his gut, spilling out of his throat like bile. He pushed past her and towards the restroom, their eyes following him like knives in his back. He pushed open the door to the mens and found his way to his knees in front of a toilet, his guts emptying pathetically, tears streaming down his face. They were right, weren’t they? Wasn’t he just a whore? All the expensive clothes or watches in the world couldn’t help and cover up how  _ cheap  _ he was. A dirty rotten whore. He sobbed and retched dry, shoulders convulsing. He shivered, wiping his mouth with the back of a shaking hand. He wrapped his arms around his knees and rocked back and forth, he needed to get in control- daddy was counting on him. He pulled himself up by the handicap bar, steadying against the cool walls of the stall. He shakily made his way to the mirror- his eyes were raw and his hair was a wreck. He splashed the water from the tap on his skin, mixing in with his salty tears. The door swung open and Sherlock’s eyes widened to saucers, fluffing his hair quickly and drying his hands. Daddy stepped over quickly caressing his cheek and looking deep into him, examining his eyes. 

“Y’alright, baby?” Sherlock sputtered and began to cry again. He shook his head and collapsed into daddy’s arms. “Oh, shh, that’s it, darling, what’s wrong?” Daddy soothed, holding his face in both hands, face full of concern. 

“I’m  _ cheap  _ daddy- I’m street garbage, I’m nothing, I don’t deserve you at all,” Sherlock whispered dolefully, eyes locked on the floor, arms wrapped around himself shamefully. Daddy growled and gripped his chin forcefully.

“Sherlock. Not. another. word.” Daddy maintained steady eye contact and Sherlock trembled. Daddy sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sherlock, you’re not cheap, you’re not a whore. Jesus Christ, I’m gonna kill someone.” John shouted, punching his fist to the floor, and honestly, Sherlock believed him. “God, this is a horrible Christmas isn’t it?” Sherlock smiled slightly, wiping his dreary eyes with the back of his sleeve. 

“Maybe a little,” Sherlock mumbled, “Can we go home, daddy?” He wrapped his arms around daddy’s shoulders, burrowing into his armpit. 

“God, yes,” John sighed, “Already gave them a cheque anyways,” John smiled and pressed a kiss to Sherlock’s temple, grasping his hand snugly and pulling him along out of the mens, thankfully down a side corridor. They escaped into the icy December air and John wrapped Sherlock in his coat- he hadn’t even noticed John grabbing it. He smiled gratefully, eyes soft and glowing pale moons of grey and silver. 

“Daddy?” Sherlock whispered as John opened his door and buckled him in. 

“Yes, love?”

“I’m sorry,” Sherlock bit his lip and looked down solemnly. John shook his head and sighed. 

“You have no reason to be sorry, Sherlock, you were such a good boy in there, brave and strong for me,” daddy thumbed away a rogue tear and pressed a slow, warm kiss to Sherlock’s lips. “I’m sorry we had to come here, especially on our first Christmas,” 

“No, no s’okay daddy,” Sherlock looked up innocent and pure eyed, “Christmas is tomorrow, and I got you a present, daddy,” Sherlock bit his lip. 

“A present? For me?” Daddy feigned shock and Sherlock giggled. Sherlock unbuckled his seatbelt and jumped out of the car, leaving John in actual shock as he wandered into the shrubs by the car park. “Love, please get back in the car,” John leaned across the passenger seat and gave Sherlock a stern look. 

“Just a second, daddy!” Sherlock leaned into the bushes and struggled with something before returning with a proud smile and a fistful of leaves. “It’s for an experiment.” He assured as he slid back into his seat, gripping onto his findings. John furrowed his eyebrows and pushed in the clutch. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> any guesses as to that experiment? ;) 
> 
> <3 thank you for all your support cuties  
> 


	6. mistletoe and misunderstandings

“Sherlock, sweetheart, time to wake up, we’re home,” Sherlock’s eyes fluttered open as daddy unbuckled his seat belt and pulled him onto his hip. He hadn’t even realized he’d fallen asleep, but he drowsily leaned his head on daddy’s shoulder as they rode the lift. “We need to have a talk, princess, and then we can open your early gift, ‘right love?” Sherlock nodded, stomach churning at the thought of their evening. Daddy had relied on Sherlock to do one thing- to behave and to be respectful, and Sherlock had ruined it. Embarrassed his daddy and spoiled his Christmas. Tears welled in his eyes as they entered the flat and daddy set him gingerly on the kitchen bench, tugging the velvety jacket off Sherlock’s trembling shoulders. Daddy flicked on the kettle and set to making tea, Sherlock sniffling and fidgeting with the cuffs of his silk shirt.

 _Whore!_ He shook his head and watched daddy’s hands intently. Kind, strong hands that made tea like it was breathing. _Slut._ He hit the heel of his palm against his forehead, the voices getting louder and louder. Shut up, Sherlock, _shut up._ Daddy’s eyes flashed genuine concern, his hands clasping around Sherlock's bony wrists, pulling his fist away from his head. 

"Darling, stop that now," He watched Sherlock intently, soaking in every detail of his bleary cheeks and trembling eyelashes, "love, we need to have a chat about what happened tonight, you gave me a bit of a scare," Sherlock looked up innocently, lip quivering.

"s-sorry, daddy," He mumbled, swallowing the cavalcade of tears that was threatening to spill over. He needed to be stronger. _You're a boy, Sherlock, it's high time you act like one._

"No, love, no need to be sorry, but I need to know where those nasty thoughts came from," Daddy curled a strand of his hair in his fingers gently, thumbing away the rebellious tears that had spilled against all of Sherlock's will to stop them. "You said some awfully mean things to yourself, things that are not true, sweet boy," Daddy kissed his forehead and continued to pet his locks. "After that text from your brother, I'm concerned." Sherlock sniffled and wiped his nose on the back of his hand, the tuft of leaves he'd been holding slipping from his fingers to the top of the bench. 

"I'm okay, d-daddy, really, I'm fine," Sherlock feigned a hopefully convincing smile and looked up at daddy. 

"Sherlock, I will not have lies in this house," Daddy growled crossly, gripping onto Sherlock's wrist tighter, eyeing him unrelentingly. Sherlock bit back a sob, his shoulders heaving.

"I'm sorry daddy! I'm s-sorry," John sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, inhaling and exhaling deep. He looked back up at the blubbery mess on the counter top and smiled.

"Darling, I need to know why you called yourself a whore, that's the most concerning thing," Daddy let go of his wrist despondently, and Sherlock almost whined at the loss of contact. He felt so alone, so suddenly, daddy so far away. "I- I want you to know that, my financial support is in no way tied to your body, Sherlock, I-" Daddy's strong voice cracked, and Sherlock's heart plummeted. Daddy couldn't cry! He couldn't! If daddy cried, then Sherlock...what would Sherlock do?! Daddy cleared his throat and straightened his shoulders, his eyes dark and distant as he calmly looked down at Sherlock.

"I never want you to think that I'm, _paying_ for sex with you, I could never do that to you, love, you're far too important," John's eyes were glowing with concern and regret, "You are not a whore, Sherlock, you're not cheap, not in the slightest." Sherlock sputtered, his mind spinning and his heart continuing to plummet in his chest.

"n-no da-addy, don't be s-sad, s'my fault, daddy, not you," Sherlock shook his head vigorously, "not you at _all!"_ Sherlock couldn't hold himself back anymore, couldn't hold back the sobs that wracked through him. He clutched for his daddy, desperate to feel his warmth, the safety in those arms. He whispered, pleading, voice small and sweet, "daddy."

John obliged, wrapping strong arms around him, Sherlock's shiny nose stuffed into his chest, his shoulders shivering and shuddering.

"Shh, Shh, darling, you're alright, daddy's here, sweet boy, that's it, just let it out," Daddy pulled him off the bench and onto his hip, Sherlock gripping onto his neck as he carried him to the armchair, sitting and pulling him onto his lap, their chests pressed together, Sherlock's knees on either side of John's thighs. Daddy carded through his hair some more and held him close, "tell me what's in that brilliant head of yours,"

"Mycroft," Sherlock whispered into his neck, clutching tight, like John might disappear at any moment. 

"Your brother?" Sherlock nodded.

"Mycroft, was a lot like your friends," John grumbled. _friends, huh?_ "He had lots of money, and when I- when I did, the bad things," Sherlock pulled back to show daddy his arms as evidence, John nodded in understanding, "He, left me there, in the bad places, he said-" Sherlock paused, taking a shaky breath to continue, "said, said I wasn't worth the effort of fixing, cut me off from mummy, an- and I lived on the street for a while after that, then i got the job at the cafe and I, I did good on my exams, and they let me into university, a-and then I m-met y-you, d-addy," Sherlock's lips pressed closed, his eyes squeezing shut at the bad memories that filled him to the brim, sloshing over the edges and spilling down his cheeks.

"How old were you when he did that, Sherlock?" John bit back the growl that rumbled in his chest, his nostrils flaring in rage. Seething, glowing rage.

"fifteen," Sherlock mumbled, pressing further into John, squeezing the older man with his legs. John clenched his jaw, his teeth grinding.

"That's- that's not how family is supposed to be, Sherlock," John paused and lovingly brushed a curl from his eyes, "not at all. Why didn't you tell me this before, Sherlock?" The smaller boy shrugged and placed his cheek on daddy's shoulder, nose close to his scruffy neck.

"didn't, I- I was, I didn't want you to know, because I wanted you to, to see me different, not like, they did," Sherlock whispered as John rocked him back and forth, hushing him softly.

"I could never see you as anything less than my perfect boy," He lulled into Sherlock's ear, "my sweet, kind, brilliant, sensitive boy, who is so good for me, so awfully good." Sherlock hiccuped as he rest on daddy's shoulder, eyes closed, soaking up his praises that glowed like sunshine on his skin.

"hey daddy?"

"Yes, Sherlock?"

"I had a surprise for you, but, maybe it's too late now," Sherlock mumbled and John tutted.

"Not too late at all Sherlock, what is it?" Sherlock's eyes brightened and his lips turned into a sweet innocent smile. He shuffled his feet and squirmed off of daddy's lap and scampered to the kitchen. John smiled and leaned back in his chair before a small bunch of leaves was dangling in front of his eyes. Sherlock slyly crawled down the back of the chair and straddled John, looking up at him from under his dark eyelashes.

"surprise, daddy," John chuckled and rubbed strong hands along Sherlock's thighs, moving dangerously close to his- "da-addy, come _on!"_ Sherlock puckered his lips and nudged him and John's eyes flickered with understanding. 

" _mistletoe_ , daddy!" John didn't need to be told twice, crashing his lips into Sherlock's, wrapping a firm hand around the back of his nape, fingers tracing along the baby hairs of his neck. Sherlock pulled back and pecked daddy on the forehead, squirming in his lap. John continued his assault, deep and ravenous kisses and bites planting along Sherlock's exposed neck. "daddy," Sherlock whined, head thrown back. "da-addy!" He poked John's belly with his finger and looked at him seriously. "We have to open an early gift!"

John smirked and raised his eyebrows. "And which one would you have me open?" Sherlock blushed furiously, slipping down off John's lap and moving towards the tree slowly, plucking a dark box from beneath the pile of gifts, presenting it to daddy. He slowly pulled the end of the ribbon, eyes raking over Sherlock relentlessly, Sherlock's skin glowing crimson beneath his thin silk shirt.

"But, it looks better on, daddy," Sherlock interjected before the bow could be entirely removed. John smiled darkly, still eyeing Sherlock insatiably. 

"Oh, of that I'm quite sure,"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3  
> I hope this chapter isn't absolute trash. Any comments or feedback would be most appreciated!!


	7. reindeer games

Sherlock nervously stood in the washroom, staring at his reflection, fidgeting nervously. He was, quite naked, save for his knickers and the red strappy harness that dug lightly into his chest, back and around his thighs. Around his neck was a matching red collar lined with silver jingle bells. His wrists and ankles had red leather cuffs as well, each with a silver bell. His hair was fluffy and his curls fell in loose ringlets of chocolate around his forehead. He slipped on the antler headband and blushed. He turned a bit, looking at his own arse, and the fluffy white tail attached to his harness right above it. He eyed the door nervously before fishing his eyeliner pencil, mascara and the tiny tin of blush from the bathroom cabinet. He applied the mascara carefully, he was likely to poke his eye out with all this shivering. He popped the cap off the eyeliner and drew on some freckles on his cheeks, flushing with embarrassment at his own childishness. He glanced down at the rouge and looked himself in the eyes. Fuck it. He could do to have a little bit more fun. It _was_ Christmas. 

"Sherlock? Almost done?" Daddy called from the sitting room, and Sherlock dropped the tin in a fit of nervousness. 

"Just a minute daddy!" Sherlock quickly popped open the tin and rubbed a finger of the red makeup on his nose. He giggled at his reflection, wiggled his tail a bit before dashing out the door and into the hall, standing quite literally like a deer in headlights, daddy sitting powerfully before him in his armchair, sipping his drink, clad in his white dress shirt, dinner jacket and bow-tie quite forgotten. Something soft and Christmas-y was on the record player and the fireplace crackled. Daddy's eyes raked over him, licking his lips and widening his eyes. 

"H-hi, Santa," Sherlock blushed and eyed him amorously, legs crossing a bit as he stood innocently, tail fluttering as he shivered. He fiddled with his fingers, looking down quickly and rubbing a spot on the floor with his toe. Daddy growled and pat his thigh. Sherlock obeyed instantly, scampering over, collar jingling and perched delicately on his knee, hands still folded in his lap

"Santa..." Daddy's voice was low and gruff, "who told you that, little one?" Daddy smirked and fluffed Sherlock's tail a bit, drawing patterns on his exposed skin with the other hand. Sherlock blushed and his feet shuffled anxiously.

"just a guess," He mumbled. Daddy chuckled and placed a warm, firm hand right on top of Sherlock's thigh, brushing the hem of his silky pants, fingers ghosting his hips beneath them.

"so, Sherlock," eyes dilating, delighted with this new game. "have you been good this year?" 

"Yes sir, I've been good," Sherlock nodded and eyed daddy, sneaking a small giggle and looking back down at the floor. 

"Sure about that? You look rather naughty to me sweetheart..." daddy unclasped his cuff links slowly, dangerously, sending jolts of electric nerves through the younger boy on his lap. 

"No, sir, I've been good!" Sherlock whimpered as daddy rubbed his hands along his harness, tugging at the straps a bit, rubbing at the skin beneath them. His hands floated to Sherlock's collar, grabbing the back with his finger, tugging on the soft leather and leaving Sherlock sputtering, breathless. His cheeks flushed red, his eyes wide and innocent as he applied extra pressure with his other hand, fingers gripping firmly, but gently, into his neck. Sherlock choked a bit as he whispered, "I can show you sir, I've been good!" John smirked and squeezed at Sherlock's bum, leaning forward and nibbling at his glowing red ear. 

"mm, show me, sweet thing, how good you've been," Daddy nudged Sherlock off his lap before growling, "On your knees, little one"

Sherlock's knees hit the floor with a thump, his eyes wide and pure as he pressed fingers around daddy's calves, his ankles tucked under his bum, fluffy tail brushing the tops of his feet as he knelt below his daddy. John pet his hair gently, admiring his antlers and Sherlock ducked his head, leaning on daddy's muscular thigh to allow him more access, practically purring at the touch. Daddy gave him a gentle pat on the back of his neck, and Sherlock swallowed nervously. He glanced once more at daddy's quite chuffed smile before reaching with tentative hands to daddy's trousers, slowly unzipping, blushing horribly, eyes flickering up, unsure as he nuzzled into the warm, musky smell between daddy's legs.

"let me help you out a bit there, Blitzen," Daddy smirked, unbuckled his belt and pulled out his cock, sending shivers through Sherlock. It was glowing red and stood hard and at attention. John smirked as Sherlock watched him attentively, doe-eyed and slightly fearful at it's sheer _length._ The younger boy shuffled on his knees and leaned forward, eyes locked with daddy's, lips opening slightly to press a warm kiss on the tip of it, lapping his tongue at the dribble of leaking pre-cum. A deep thunder filled John's chest as he gripped a fistful of curly hair, Sherlock shuddering, licking a bit more along the shaft, so unsure as to how to go about this. He wrapped his plush lips around the knobby end, slowly taking in the whole of it as to not involuntarily gag as it touched the back of his throat.

"Mm, that's it, darling, you've got the right idea," Daddy gripped his hair and guided Sherlock's lips back and forth, lapping with his tongue at his frenulum. Daddy growled and began to thrust his hips forward, Sherlock's mouth hot and tight and warm suckling at his cock. Sherlock continued, watching daddy's signs of arousal, trying to improve at this, to be good for daddy, when daddy knew so much and had so much more experience. 

"Sherlock," Daddy snarled as he pushed closer, pumping into Sherlock roughly, tugging at his hair and devouring the sweet whines and whimpers beneath him. The bells on his collar jingled luridly with each thrust, "that's good, Sherlock, that's _lovely_ ," Sherlock could've melted at the praises as daddy mercilessly fucked his mouth, pounding into the back of his throat, Sherlock having to focus and control his reflexes, to stay calm as he choked.

"You're _mine,_ Sherlock _"_ He gasped for air around daddy's girth, the lack of oxygen sending his mind into a fuzzy calm, the sweet animalistic smells of sex filling his nostrils dizzily. 

"mm, _Sherlock,"_ Daddy breathed out shakily as he came, hot and unrelentingly pouring down Sherlock's throat, pulling out a bit to squirt onto those red and puffy lips. Sherlock breathlessly licked at the semen, swallowing quickly and satedly sinking down into the floor at daddy's feet, leaning his forehead, exhausted, against his thigh, Daddy ran fingers through his sweat-drenched curls, massaging at his sore scalp. 

"you're a good boy for daddy, aren't you?" Sherlock hummed sweetly, " _my_ sweet little boy," He scooped Sherlock up into his arms, gangly limbs wrapping around him, delicate cheek resting in his neck, nuzzling his beard. John stood, gripping Sherlock tight and carrying him to bed. Sherlock squirmed and yawned, watching the tree and lights grow smaller and smaller as they journeyed down the hall. Daddy unrolled the duvet and gently laid Sherlock down into the soft covers, his hair flopping around him. He unbuckled Sherlock's harness, pulling it off. John gently tugged off his antlers and pressed a kiss to his forehead. 

"daddy," Sherlock mumbled into his pillow, turning over and reaching out for him. John shook his head and pulled the duvet over him and tucked him in, caressing his hair.

"Shh, go to sleep, princess,"

"not," he yawned, "sleepy," his eyes fluttered closed, gripping tight to Melly. 

"sweet dreams, Sherlock," Sherlock blushed and rolled over, leaning up and kissing daddy's cheek softly.

"happy christmas, daddy,"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY CHRISTMAAAAS!!!!
> 
> *whispers* p.s. i maybe might add a christmas morning chapter maybe idk tell me what u think okay bye love you  
> <3 <3 <3
> 
> p.s.s if you have any daddy john/twink sherlock requests please please please ask me
> 
> please


End file.
